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It was late at night my father gave me some money and sent me on my way to the shops. Moving through dark alleyways and cool damp streets while regularly checking my surroundings as such an environment can be seen in slasher/thriller movies with an unknown assailant following behind. Eventually turning the last corner to the gleaming lights of the still-open IGA a brilliant haven for those in search of the goods they wish to acquire. Walking through to the dairy section I pull the door open and take hold of the 2 Litres of milk the coldness seeping into my hand burning me, but also serving as a reminder that my journey is still incomplete. Walking to the front of the store I approach the cashier to pay for the goods.


Upon exiting the store the coldness of the milk and the surrounding temperature caused me to lose all sensation in my hand. Crossing the road I make it halfway before feeling a sense of lightness in my arm, thinking it's just the cold I look down to find the milk is no longer in my grasp I take a moment to process my empty hand, and realization dawns upon me as I look down at my feet and see that the beloved milk that cost me $3.60 is on the ground and is profusely leaking.


The shock and horror at finding myself in such a situation have stunned me, I cannot comprehend what has just occurred so I stand there in the middle of the road, late at night in the cold before I snap back to reality and decide a course of action. Picking the milk up and trying to hold it together so as not to lose too much of its essence, much like a loved one bleeding out and applying pressure to the wound. If someone were to come past what they would have been witness to would have been a man, no not a man when I barely resembled a person, a being clutching at a bottle of milk in the edges of the shop lights in the middle of the road. Milk runs down my body as it coats my arms and clothes to finally pool around my shoes.


After minutes of staying like this, I snap back to reality and decide it's making a mess on the road and finish crossing to lay it on the grass as I prepare to say my final farewells as the last of the milk is bleeding into the grass. I stand looking around for a bin and on the off chance, there were any witnesses to that mildly traumatic event. After finding the bin and disposing of the lifeless shell of my once was lover I head back for the store praying the entire time whilst in there that the cashier wouldn't notice or acknowledge the milk all over me as I pay for a new bottle. Exhausted and taking the journey back home I was lucky that no similar events occurred, for the worst had happened, and I no longer had enough money for more milk. Upon arrival, I handed the measly change back and no questions were asked about my disheveled appearance and proceeded to make the milkshake I had initially craved.